


Lost in the Woods

by Mystery_Name



Series: USM Bingo 2021 [2]
Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon 2012)
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Angst, Captured, Established Relationship, Fluff, For Jas and Houston!, Held Hostage, Hurt/Comfort, Lost in the Woods, Lot's of pain, M/M, Snow Storms, Spider Biology, Spiders cant thermoregulate, Spideynova - Freeform, That Includes Peter, Titus: the alien space cat, USM Bingo 2021, adult characters, injuries, lots of cuddling for warmth, they are hurt, tweaks to the Nova Helmet lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Name/pseuds/Mystery_Name
Summary: When Spider-Man and Nova crash land in the woods, they are forced to spend the night together in a small shack, in the middle of the forest, during one of the biggest snowstorms New York has seen in years. With Peters body temperature rapidly declining and one of Sam’s oldest enemies lurking in the woods, the two aren’t sure they’ll live to see daybreak. Featuring already-established relationship Spideynova and some creative tweaks to the Nova helmet lore
Relationships: Peter Parker/Sam Alexander, Sam Alexander/Peter Parker
Series: USM Bingo 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148372
Comments: 26
Kudos: 42





	1. Snow Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TexMex_On_French_Fries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexMex_On_French_Fries/gifts).



> The long-awaited Spideynova fic! I have been working on this baby for the past 2 ¾ months and I'm so excited to start posting it!
> 
> This is for Jas (because she is amazing) and Houston who is the personification of the Spideynova brainrot. You're both amazing and I hope you enjoy this nugget of Spideynova fluff and angst I've prepared for you!

Their landing isn't soft, even with a thick pile of snow to cushion the fall.

At first, Sam's arms are curled around him, and he'd angled himself so he was taking the brunt of the hit as they collided with trees on their way down, and while Peter appreciated how thoughtful his boyfriend was, they were still wrenched apart after hitting a particularly large tree and went ricocheting in opposite directions. Peter watched Sam's blue glow disappear among the forest and snow, and seconds later branches snapped and whipped around him, he narrowly missed a tree trunk, and he slammed into the ground. _Hard_.

The impact knocked him out for a few minutes, but when he came to he didn't know where he was. He was looking skyward, at the flakes of snow floating through the treetops as they melted onto his suit and froze the skin beneath. Earlier, when the fight against aliens initially broke out, the cold temperature had been soothing against his hot, adrenaline-fueled body, but now he was beginning to cool down and the sting of snow and wind made his limbs feel thick and numb. He sat up slowly, head pounding where it smacked the ground, or at least he tried to. When applied with pressure, his right arm erupted in pain and Peter yelped, collapsing and cradling it close to his chest. The wrist dangled at an unnatural angle and the skin was already bruised from taking the brunt of his fall.

He hissed, sharp and under the breath, but didn't attempt to sit up again. Every inch of him ached. Branches had torn into his suit on the way down and he could feel warm blood trickling from the cuts they left behind. One particular branch had got him across the face and sliced his cheek, his fingers danced along the bleeding gash with another hiss. He took stock of the rest of his injuries.

Possible concussion. Bruises and cuts _everywhere_. Broken wrist. Left leg ached, but his right ankle pulsed with red hot pain from getting snagged by an upturned root as he'd rolled across the forest floor. Sprained, Peter guessed.

Not a good landing, and certainly not the best he's ever experienced, but he's lived through worse.

The longer Peter lay there the more snow came down and it was only getting thicker with each passing minute. He needed to get up and move, the storm coming was supposed to be a doozy. The whole city had been issued a blizzard warning and the streets were closed off early to avoid any problems or health risks. Peter didn't know how far off he and Sam shot, or if they were even close to New York City anymore, but he wondered if the storm would still hit them with such force.

Thankfully, his decision to get a move on was made for him in the form of one Sam Alexander. Peter heard him before he saw him, a far-off voice shouting, "Spidey? _Spidey_?"

Peter lifted his head, yelling "OVER HERE!" as loudly as his bruised ribs allowed.

Sam came limping into view. He turned off the nova force, so it was just the black sheen of his helmet and his suit against the pale white of the snow.

Peter could've sworn it was still afternoon, but night would fall soon judging by how dark it already was. Time flew by in the heat of battle, and with aliens screaming at you in one ear and Fury giving you orders in the other, it was hard to keep track of silly things, like the position of the sun.

He put more effort into sitting up as Sam hobbled and kneeled next to him, grunting as he did.

"You okay?" he said, and Peter couldn't see the concerned upturn of his eyes, but his lips did a cute little frown and he smiled despite himself, wrapping his good hand around Sam's fingers, where he'd been tracing the cut through his mask.

"I'll live," he said, "Are you okay?"

Sam shrugged, "Nothing the nova force can't heal."

That wasn't an answer. Peter frowned, pursing his lips, "Sam, we talked about this, you said you'd stop hiding your injuries. What happened?"

"That's rich coming from you, _Mr. No-Self-Preservation,"_ Sam huffed, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"You first."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Some scratches and cuts, a little bruising, a branch snagged my shoulder," he nodded to his left where the suit already mended itself, but Peter wondered if the area was still tender, "Think I broke my ankle, but the nova force already took care of that…mostly. It's mostly healed. Either way, the suit took the brunt of the hit. Now, what about you?"

Peter sighed and gave his body a mental once-over again. It hurt. He winced, head smarting with pain as his body shouted their ailments all at once, "Broken wrist," he mumbled, "some scratches, some bruises, probable concussion, a few," he grimaced as he took a breath, "A few cracked ribs. And I think I twisted my ankle."

Sam's concerned frown deepened, and Peter skid his fingers over the bare areas of his chin where the helmet didn't cover it, smiling wryly, "Not that look. I'll be alright, I've come back from worse."

Sam's frown didn't lighten or indulge him, "I think you do have a concussion," he said around Peter's fingers, which were tracing his lips, and pried them away. "Do you think you can hold out long enough for me to fly us back?"

Peter grimaced at the thought. His cracked ribs would NOT like a bumpy space ride with Nova, as much as he usually did. Neither would any part of his body really. "Maybe," he said anyway and tried sitting up again, murmuring a quiet thanks as Sam helped him. "Can you make it through this storm though? Aren't you still healing?"

Sam shrugged again, "I'll be fine. It's nothing I haven't come back from," he winked. Peter couldn't see his eyes, but he knew he winked. "With the helmet, I think I can navigate us out of here. Might be a little harder with all this snow, but it's got me through a lot worse."

Peter looked around as if remembering where they were and shivered violently as a gust of cold air swept over them. He nearly bent double in the act and groaned. That hadn't felt good on any part of him either.

On cue, Sam was hovering over him, hands out but at a loss, like he wasn't sure how to help. Peter appreciated the thought and it was cute, and when he unwound himself he pressed a soft kiss to Sam's chin to let him know that he didn't need to worry. He was aiming for his lips, but his depth perception was off (yes to the concussion then), and the funky red star on Sam's helmet made the angle all weird. Sam pushed his face away, but a smile was tugging on his lips.

"Stop it, Romeo. If you focus some of that energy on getting better we could get home sooner."

"Sir, yes sir. Help me up?"

Sam took on Peter's weight as he got to his feet, grunting and hissing under his breath all the while. Peter's ankle was definitely sprained, and putting the barest amount of weight on it made pain scratch all the way up his leg.

"Yep, can't walk on that," he announced with a grimace and Sam automatically adjusted his position, so he was taking on more of Peter's weight. Peter was taller than him by a good few inches, but Sam wasn't all skin and bones and could take his weight for a while – still, Peter felt guilty for having to rely on him just for _standing upright_.

"Don't," Sam said, and Peter tilted his head.

"What?"

"Whatever it is your thinking, don't. I know that look. That's your guilty-Parker-complex look."

"I _do not_ have a guilty-complex look."

"Yes, you do. Your jaw gets really tight and your eyebrows scrunch up, and you get this _look_ in your eye like you're sad and annoyed at the same time. We all know it, Webs."

Peter looked down, bothered at the revelation that he had a guilty-complex-look.

"Besides," Sam muttered, "I'm the one who should be guilty."

Peter squinted at Sam, whose shoulders were in danger of dropping and whose eyes didn't seem as keen on meeting his anymore. Peter was holding his broken wrist with his good hand, pressed up against his chest, so he nudged Sam with his head and shoulder. "What in this wide, crazy world are you talking about?"

Sam's look turned annoyed, which he directed at Peter, "Don't patronize me, Pete. This is my fault. We wouldn't be out here, _you_ wouldn't be hurt, if Titus wasn't tracking me right now. I'm," he looked away, exasperation crumbling, "I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

This time, Peter did feel a sliver of guilt, but for different reasons.

Back when they were both younger, rasher, and stupider, he'd gotten on Sam's case a lot, especially when the Guardians came around to wreak havoc for the first time. He'd ragged on Sam then for getting him into messes, even though he knew, full-well, he'd gotten into it himself. It hurt to think Sam was still bottling that in him, even though they were both in their 20's now and have been dating for the last year and a half.

"Hey," he shuffled closer and when Sam wouldn't look at him, Peter let go of his broken wrist to gently tilt Sam's face towards him, " _Hey,_ Sam, look at me. None of this is your fault, alright. Titus is the one chasing you around and you didn't ask for that. You didn't bring me into this mess, I saw some douchebag Furby alien trying to hurt my boyfriend and I decided to step in myself. Who's the reason we made it out of there before Titus could blow us up with his freaky alien space lasers?"

"Well, much good I did," Sam snapped, eyebrows knitting in frustration, " _Look_ at you, Peter. You can barely walk, your wrist is broken, you're all torn up and – and you're _hurt_. My suit fixes itself, _yours_ doesn't. The helmet heals me, your mask is in shreds. Do you even know what you look like right now?"

"Can't be much worse than I usually do," Peter quipped despite himself, and the look Sam gave him could've punched-out Titus if only the alien had been standing in front of him.

"Not. Funny."

Peter sighed, "Look, Sam, I've walked out of _way_ worse, and I've come back from more than a broken wrist and a conked noggin. Without _you,_ I'd be in way worse shape. Hell, I'd probably be nothing but ash or laser-goo if you hadn't blown the ship when you did. Titus had me pinned and you did what you had to do. None of this is your fault, you're just being the hero I know you are. Alright? And – " Peter faltered here, "and I'm sorry if I've…made you feel like this is all your fault. I know before, in the past, I wasn't exactly -…I wasn't very- "

It was Sam's turn to shush him, and he did it with a quick peck on the lips. A sure-fire way to get any Parker to shut up. "We were just kids, Peter," he said, "Back then, we were both rubbing each other the wrong way and constantly getting on each other's nerves. Who knows how many times I've told you your leadership was terrible or called you out even though I _knew_ you were trying? We both weren't exactly…I don't know, at our best? It's okay."

"Still…I'm sorry."

Sam smiled softly, his thumb rubbing Peter's hand where it was still holding his face. "Me too."

"You're forgiven."

"So are you."

They both smiled, but the moment was interrupted by another baleful gust of wind that threatened to knock them off their feet. The body movement put a strangled noise in Peter's throat and if not for his cracked ribs, he would've bent double again. Sam caught him and readjusted their positions.

"We need to get out of this storm," he said, bouncing worried glances between Peter and the falling snow, which was steadily getting thicker. Any more and they won't be able to see through it. "I'm…I'm not sure I can fly you out of here without making you worse."

"It's okay," Peter wheezed, "I'll be fine."

He wouldn't though. Sam pursed his lips, looking around again. He activated his helmet, using its sensors to look through the snow for anything that could help. The Nova helmets were truly a force to be reckoned with and had powers people could only dream of, but much like any other sensors, all this snow made it hard to pick things out. If it were rain it would be easier, but the snow was thicker and covered everything in layers. Still, the helmet pulled through easily enough, and off in the distance, Sam caught readings of a shack or cabin.

"Over there," he pointed his head in the direction, "There's a cabin over there. We can hole up inside until the storm passes."

"Sam, really, you can fly us out of here," Peter insisted, taking a step forward, and nearly falling again if Sam weren't there to catch him.

"No," Sam insisted right back, "If I want to fly us out of here, then I need to go fast if I'm going to bypass Titus and his ships, and I can't go that fast while holding you – and before you tell me to leave you here and go myself, like a _flarking_ idiot, I'm saying that leaving you behind in THIS weather and in your condition is not an option."

Peter was quiet for a tantalizing few seconds. Then, "I love it when you curse at me in alien."

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, "You really do have a concussion."

"Maybe a _liiiittle_ one."

"Come on, let's get you out of this storm."

"Correction: Let's get us _both_ out of this storm."


	2. Uninvited Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day Updated!
> 
> Note: I took did some tweaks to the Nova Helmet lore that you're going to pick up on in the story if you know anything about the helmets. So, heads up for that I guess.

They walked in the direction of the cabin, although walking was a loose term. Peter limped, having to lean on Sam for most of the journey, which made it more of an awkward shuffle than anything. He was shivering hard by the time they were halfway there, and Sam only lasted a few more minutes of full-body shaking before activating the nova force.

Peter immediately relaxed into the tingling warmth, feeling it drive away the bitter bite of the snow, before going rigid and looking at Sam in alarm, "Wait, isn't Titus tracking you? Won't this alert him?"

Sam bit his lip in thought, "It might," he admitted, "He doesn't have anything that could _track_ me, per se, but I don't think he'll find us that fast. A lot of alien races like to think of Earth as some backwater planet, and they aren't exactly wrong, but they don't usually plan for its more extreme weather. I'm hoping this storm caught Titus off guard, so it might take him a while to track us."

Peter frowned, looking down in a way that meant he was worrying again, "You're sure this won't speed it up?"

"I honestly don't know Peter, but we both know how cold you get and how dangerous it is out here, especially for you. We need to keep you warm before your inner spider decides to go for a cat-nap."

It would be so much worse than a catnap. _So much worse._

Some spiders hibernate in the winter, and others die. Peter's mesh of spider and human biology compromised in the middle. He started out lethargic and would eventually collapse in slumber if subjected to the elements for a while, but if his body dropped low enough in temperature, it was going to become a much more permanent sleep. Basically, the same it was for anyone who happened to get caught in frigid weather, it just affected Peter way, way, WAY sooner, and on a much larger scale.

By the time they made it to the cabin, snow was coming down with vengeance, and without the light of the nova force, they wouldn't have been able to see 3 feet in front of them. After a few minutes of pointless squinting, Peter gave up trying to help navigate and allowed himself to be pulled along by Sam.

The cabin is less of a cabin and more of a shack. The whole thing is only one room, and it's not very big to begin with. Barely bigger than Peter's living room. There are a few nails on the wall, suggesting it was used to house hunting equipment, and a couple of boxes shoved in the corner. There is no fire grate, but Peter supposed it didn't matter, seeing how they didn't have much to start a fire with.

Sam carefully set Peter down in a corner of the room and scoured the place for anything useful. The room was bare enough as it was and the only thing that turned up in the boxes was a ratty old hunting coat that was moth-eaten and grimy. He shook it off as best he could and returned it to Peter.

The thing was gross and would be crawling with bugs if not for the cold, but Peter must be especially worn out if he wasn't commenting on that as Sam wrapped the coat around his shoulders. It worried him. In the few minutes that he'd left him alone, Peter's temperature had already dropped, and without the nova force keeping him warm his body was shaking again.

Curse spiders and their inability to thermoregulate.

Sam knelt next to him to button the top buttons, so it'd stay on, and it seemed to finally rouse Peter from his daze and he looked down at what he was wearing. "Are you sure you just don't want to burn it?"

Sam gave him a look and firmly buttoned another button, to prove a point.

"Thanks," Peter said, wiggling a finger through a particularly large hole in the front, "I feel much warmer now."

"It was all I could find."

"I know, I know, I just-"Peter sighed and leaned against the wall. His eyes closed and he made grabby hands for Sam, "Can you just…lay here with me? Share body heat and all that. That's a thing we're supposed to do when we're stuck in the cold, right?"

Sam huffed a smile, rolling his eyes, "Are you just saying that so you can get your hands on me, Parker?"

Peter cracked a smile, eyes still closed, "You got me."

Shaking his head, Sam shuffled forward. "Move up then, you need to sit with your back to my chest to get the most out of my warmth, you greedy gremlin." Peter did as instructed and Sam slid behind him, so when Peter lay back his head was tucked up near Sam's chest and his body was snug between the smaller man's legs. Sam curled his arms around Peter to keep him in place. "I have a boyfriend, you know," he said next to Peter's ear.

"Don't worry, I won't tell if you don't," Peter whispered back, "I'll fight him in hand-to-hand combat for your favor if you want."

Sam hummed as if considering, "I don't know if you can take him. See he's got these glasses, and this stupid haircut, and he's a real dweeb. His name is Peter Parker, maybe you've heard of him."

"Hmm, can't say that I have," Peter said, "He sounds like a real hunk though."

"He's aight," Sam said and Peter gasped, twisting his neck to try and look at him. Sam laughed and pressed his lips to his temple in a soft kiss, "But I like him. I don't know if _Spider-Man_ can take him though."

Peter rested his head back on Sam's chest and his chuckle was lazier this time, "I guess not," he murmured, "Sounds like a real dweeb to me."

Sam hid his smile in Peter's matted hair, "The dweebiest."

When the silence stretched on, Sam craned his neck to see Peter and was startled to find him dozing. "Hey," he shook him. And then shook him a little harder when he didn't respond, "Hey, stay awake for me, Webs. You can't fall asleep right now. You have a concussion, remember? And your freaky spider biology."

"Just a few minutes," Peter murmured, eyes drooping, and Sam nudged him until his eyes fluttered open again.

"We can't take that chance. You need to stay awake. Just, uh…talk to me. You're good at that. What do you want to talk about?"

Peter fidgeted, grimacing when it disturbed his injuries, but nestled more comfortably against Sam, "I don't know…sleep? That sounds nice."

"No. How about…tell me about your webshooters. How did you make them? Or that new paper on uh…what was it…nanotechnology? Nanofibers?"

"The use of nanobots in the medical industry?" Peter's said and perked up, as the prospect of talking science always did to him.

Peter blinked more lucidly and started a long-winded, jargon-filled explanation of nanobots, looking awake enough that Sam relaxed. It didn't hurt that the nova force was keeping the winter chill at bay. He was just sad it couldn't heal Peter's wounds like it did his own.

If only it were easy enough to just pop the helmet on Peter's head and let him get a free healing session in so they wouldn't have to wait out the storm. But, of course, it was never that easy.

The helmet was tuned to Sam specifically, passed on to him through his father. It was connected by bloodline. Sure, Sam could give up the helmet and transfer its ownership to someone else, but that wasn't something to be done lightly. Besides, he'd never done it before and a part of him was worried that if he transferred ownership, he'd never be able to take it back. Or, more accurately, the helmet would never take _him_ back.

If Sam tried putting the helmet on Peter, he'd just combust and turn to ash. It was a defense mechanism of the helmet whenever a person it didn't belong to tried to use it. So no, there would be no giving Peter a spin. They'll both have to just wait for the storm to pass and hopefully 1) SHIELD will get off their butts and come find them so Peter can get the medical attention he needs, or 2) Peter will have healed on his own enough that Sam can carefully fly them back to the Triskelion.

Neither option was likely, seeing how Titus was still searching for him and would be occupying a lot of SHIELD's attention.

Peter was still muttering about the future of nanotechnology and its uses in the modern world, and Sam did his best to pay attention. It was cute seeing Peter get excited about it, even though he didn't understand most of the words coming out of his mouth, but the steady stream of Peter's voice was soothing and Sam started dozing off.

He wasn't aware that he was falling asleep until Peter chuckled and murmured, "Go to sleep, Sam," as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Sam's hand.

Sam jerked awake, shaking his head hard, "I'm awake, I'm awake."

"You're tired," Peter corrected.

"I'm fine," Sam said, blinking his eyes a few extra times to keep the sleepiness at bay. "Besides, I've got to make sure you stay awake."

"You need to build your strength," was Peter's argument, "If Titus finds us again...I'm not really in the best condition..."

"You're going to be fine."

"That's not what I mean."

Sam knew what he meant. Peter didn't like feeling helpless, and Sam could relate. Neither of them was fond of being at a disadvantage in a fight, and Peter was probably chewing himself up right now because he was too badly hurt to offer any real help if a fight came their way. He could try, Sam was sure he would, but his injuries, the cold, and his spider-biology weren't pulling him any favors.

Sam pat down the knotted areas of Peter's hair and pressed a soft kiss there, "Don't worry. We're going to be fine, just wait and see. We'll be out of this storm in no time, and back at Aunt May's, sipping hot chocolate and watching old home movies of you playing in the bathtub."

Peter's nose wrinkled, "I think I prefer the snow."

Sam laughed and lay his cheek atop Peter's head, taking a deep breath. Despite the howling wind outside and the way the shack creaked, they were warm, and it was comfortable. But now that he's taken a moment to rest, his body was pushing to catch some shut-eye and Sam yawned.

"You should go to sleep," Peter said, "You had a long day."

"Mmmm, what about you? I've got to keep you up until someone can get your noggin checked."

"As you keep saying, but I'll be fine," Peter promised, "I've taken worse."

Sam shook his head, "Nope, I'm not taking any chances."

"Sam you need to sleep."

"I'll sleep when Titus is off-world."

Peter huffed on a breath, "Well, one of us is going to sleep and it's not going to be me."

"Well, it's not going to be me either."

"Then how do you suggest we pass the time?"

Sam thought for a moment, humming as he looked up at the ceiling. "How about 20 questions? You ever played that?"

Peter snorted, "Yes, I've played 20 questions, and if you think that's going to keep me up, then you got another thing coming."

"Then I guess I'm just going to have to ask incredibly weird and invasive questions to keep you on your toes," Sam grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

"Are you waggling your eyebrows?"

"No."

"I think you are."

"Don't be silly."

"That's part of my charm."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Keep telling yourself that Arachnerd. Okay, first question, have you..." he looked around the barren shack, searching for inspiration. His eyes drifted to the storm. "ever gone snowboarding?"

Peter craned his neck to look at him, quirking a bruised eyebrow, "That's your idea of a weird question?"

Sam scowled and poked his head back where it was supposed to be, "Just answer it, smartass."

"Fine, fine, no I've never gone snowboarding. Not unless trailing behind a speeding van on a dumpster lid on icy roads counts as snowboarding."

"Uh...no, I don't think that counts."

"Then no. Have you?"

"One time," Sam said, "My mom took my sister and I up to some slopes in Utah. It was a small family trip. Got the whole weekend taken off for it. It was fun."

Peter hummed, "Maybe you can take me some time."

Sam cracked a wry smile, "But you don't like the snow. Or the cold. Or anything associated with snow or cold."

Peter snuggled closer into Sam as if reminded that, _yeah,_ he doesn't like those things. "Yeah, but know what does sound fun? Fluffy blankets, hot chocolate, a couch, and watching the snowfall next to a crackling fire. You can go snowboarding, I'll watch and laugh when Kae beats you down the slope."

"So much for the supportive boyfriend," Sam said, sticking out his tongue. "But that does sound like fun - the watching the snowfall thing. Maybe we can try next winter. We can go to the same lodge my family went to."

"Yeah, let's do it."

"Sounds like a plan. Also, it's your turn to ask a question."

Peter lingered into silence for a few minutes as he thought, "Okay, um… let's see...when was the first time you kissed a boy and realized you weren't as straight as society wants you to be?"

Sam barked out a laugh, "Getting straight to those questions. Of course, you would."

"Come on, spill the juicy details."

"One - ew. Two, the first time I kissed a guy I wasn't really the one who kissed _him_. His name is Moffet - you remember him?"

Peter wrinkled his nose as if smelling something nasty, "You mean the guy that bullied you?"

"Yeah. Turns out, he had a lot of internalized homophobia and a whole lotta gay. It was the classic pick on the person you like, but instead of tugging on pigtails, he made my life miserable. He cornered me in the locker room one day, and I thought he just wanted to kick me or poke fun or something, but next thing I knew he was kissing me."

"Oh," Peter was quiet, "What'd you do?"

"I pushed him off and ran out of there. He tried to corner me again later and threatened me not to tell anyone."

"I'm sorry."

Sam shrugged, "Not the best first kiss, but it did get me thinking about kissing dudes. It wasn't cool what he did, but I got the helmet soon after and I didn't really have to put up with him after that. But what about you? What was your first guy kiss?"

"Harry was my first," Peter said, smile returning in full force, "We were having one of our movie marathons at his house, and we were arguing about something, I don't even remember what it was, but we kept getting closer and closer, and the next thing I knew we were kissing." His smile faltered, "But he still...he grew up with Norman, so he has a lot of internalized feelings about that too and he freaked out a little bitt. It didn't stop us from being friends or anything, but I knew it rattled him a lot. We never really talked about it after that, just kind of pretended it never happened."

"Of course Harry was your first," Sam said, but his lips turned downward. He's always wondered what would've happened if Harry hadn't grown up with an abusive, homophobic piece of crap like Norman, and was allowed to be himself and love who he wanted to without his dad breathing down his neck. Peter and Harry have always been so close, Sam was almost positive that they were dating the first couple weeks he'd met them. He wondered if he and Peter would've ever gotten together if Harry got over his issues with dating men.

Sam shook his head. There was no point in thinking about that now. It never happened and he and Peter were dating now. They loved each other.

"Alright, alright, my turn," he said, "Ummm...okay-" but he never got to ask his question.

Anyone who's worked with Spider-Man for a long time can tell you about his spider-sense. Sam has been fighting side-by-side with him for years now and their original team were incredibly good at reading Peter's body language, especially when his spider-sense went off. They've come to rely on it, in fact.

Sam recognized the signs instantly. Like clockwork, Peter's body went rigid, his shoulders tensed, and every limb braced as if preparing to take a hit. If Sam were facing him, he might've seen Peter's eyes widen, sometimes just a fraction, as his head turned, drawn to the direction the danger was in.

Sam followed the direction of his head to the door of the shack, and not a second later it exploded outward in an eruption of wood boards and splinters. The two of them curled away and Sam angled his body over Peters as much as he could to take the brunt of the hit, but it was clunky, and Peter grunted in pain at being moved too quickly and aggressively.

Any splinters Sam had was fixed by the helmet and he lurched to his feet, standing over Peter with his arms braced, while the nova force pulsed around him. Wind seeped inside the sack and without Sam or the helmet keeping him warm, Peter shivered violently as he pulled himself to his feet. Snow blew in, settling onto the floorboards as something large stepped inside the shack, the top of its head brushing against the roof. Its red cyborg eye glowed in the darkness and its steps shook the ratty old floorboards.

Sam recognized him in an instant and glared with enough heat to melt the snow outside.

" _Titus_."

"Little sprout," the immense figure rumbled, his voice a strange throaty gravel that sent shivers down Sam's spine. "I was wondering where you crawled off to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tweak to the lore is Sam's ability to transfer the ownership of the helmet if he wants to, its just a very serious thing to do. I have yet to come across the information that nova helmets can actually do that, and from the comics I’ve read and what I’ve been told, Sam inherited his helmet from his dad. So yeah, just a lil creative tweak.  
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know if you did :DD


	3. Legacy Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Jas, Savannah, and Ine for making sure I ate food before I posted this. This is also my 2nd bingo submission for the USM bingo (B1 - Captured/Hostage)

There was no time to think.

The moment Titus crawled into the shack Sam shot a streak of glowing energy that the space-furby narrowly avoided. It must have singed his fur though because the smell of burnt hair followed soon after. Titus snarled, nose wrinkling like the tiger he resembled as he bared his fangs.

"I wouldn't do that again," he said, aiming his arm blaster with a pitched whine as it powered up.

Sam snorted, "Do you really think your little squirt gun is gonna harm me?"

"No," Titus said, and then grinned and lowered the blaster, finding a new target. "But it will harm _him_."

Sam's stomach hit the floor and his eyes darted over to Peter, who had managed to get to his feet but was leaning against the wall for most of his support, one arm braced and ready to throw a web and the other tucked around his sides.

Sam's hesitation was only a split second, but it was all the time Titus needed. He surged forward, kicking Sam to the ground hard enough to make him breathless and pinned him under one immense foot, shoving his arm-gun inches from his face and powering it up so it sent a scolding red glow across Sam's cheek that he had to crane his face away from.

"Sam!" Peter shouted. He shot a web that landed in Titus's eyes and the alien roared, recoiling from the sticky glob and pulling at it with his free arm. Sam lifted his hands to blast at him, but Titus wasn't caught off guard and pressed so much weight onto Sam's chest that he gasped and screamed as one of his ribs cracked under the pressure.

Through his mottled vision there was more movement and a second later Peter was grunting in pain as he was wrestled to the ground by a group of Chitauri. Sam hadn't noticed they were behind Titus at all.

With a throaty snarl, Titus ripped the last of webs off and Sam was pleased when pieces of fur came with it, but his pleasure hopped to panic as Titus bent down and tore the helmet off his head. Like a cord getting unplugged, the power of the helmet immediately cut off and Sam felt a blast of cold air as his body was subjected to the elements once again.

Depowered and now vulnerable, Titus took his foot off Sam and stepped back, as if that was all it took. Sam curled an arm around his ribs with a strained grunt, eyes slamming shut as he attempted to scoot to his knees. Nearby, Peter, who was still being held down by a gaggle of Chitauri soldiers, had his face screwed up and blood was leaking out of the cut on his cheek again, and Sam would've snapped at them to ease up if not for Titus grabbing him by the collar and pulling him violently to his feet.

He looked Sam up and down, an unimpressed sneer plain as day on his face as he grumbled, "Pathetic," and threw Sam across the shack. The wooden walls cracked under the force and he hit the ground breathless and gasping, cracked rib screeching with pain and making it nearly impossible to take full breath of air.

"Watch them," Titus ordered, turning to the hole he'd made in lieu of a door, Sam's helmet clutched in his large furry hand. "I'll be back for Jesse's mistake momentarily."

Rough hands curled around Sam's arms and shoulders and he was hauled to his feet and shoved in the corner next to Peter, who was slumped against the wall.

"Hey," Sam wheezed, taking small easy breaths that made his side ache. When Peter didn't answer, Sam let go of himself enough to grab his knee and give it a little shake, not enough to hurt, just catch his attention, "Hey, Webs, how are you holding up?"

Peter lifted his head, trying to put on an expression of calm but his face was so tight it wasn't very believable. "Never better," he grunted, and as if physically arguing his body seized up as it was overcome with another wave of pain and he made a strained choking noise. "This is nothing. You?"

"Yeah," Sam said, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes raked down Peter's body, "Nothing at all."

Peter shivered again, and now that he didn't have the helmet, Sam felt that bold sweep of air himself and mimicked him. It was _freezing_ out here. He didn't know if it was the overcast outside or their lack of natural light, but Peter's skin looked tinged blue and Sam knew from those winter survival courses SHIELD made them take, that it wasn't a good sign. Swallowing his concern, Sam huddled closer to Peter, pressing their bodies together as carefully as he could. Even so, his rib was not happy with it and Sam bit his lip to stop his hiss of pain.

"You better stay with me, Pete," Sam warned, but it was soft enough to carry no bite, "Don't let stupid, freakish spider biology get the best of you."

"Yeah," Peter agreed, teeth chattering, "F-fuck spider biology."

He couldn't be out here much longer, without the nova force to keep him warm at least. Night was falling and the temperature was dropping by the minute. Hell, Sam wasn't sure if _he_ could make it through the night in this weather. The Chitauri were wearing armor, and they probably had a ship outside to get cozy in, so they weren't in danger of hypothermia, but him and Peter weren't so lucky. They'll just as soon watch him and Peter freeze to death then feel any effects themselves.

Which was all the more reason they needed to figure a way out of this.

Sam just didn't know how they were going to do that. Neither of them did. Peter could already feel the cold creeping into his body, crippling him as if he'd been injected with paralyzing toxin. His skin was numb and the tips of his fingers so cold that when he curled his hands together it felt like clusters of ice in his palms. But that was a good sign, wasn't it? It was when he stopped feeling cold and his body started feeling warm again, without shelter or a stimulant to raise his temperature, that he was truly fucked. If his body leveled with the temperature outside it was a certified death sentence, and he would hit that mark a lot sooner than a normal person would.

Thanks to Titus's abrupt entrance too, snow was building inside the shack now, coming in through the jagged, blown out opening in the wall, which really didn't help with their situation.

Sam resisted the urge to smack his head into the wall. He couldn't believe he'd been overpowered so easy. He's had that helmet for how long? Has spent how many years training to use it? But the moment Titus starts making threats, he gets distracted and knocked on his ass. The Guardians would be shaking their heads in disappointment right now. Hell, Rocket would be beating Sam over with his gun for making such a stupid mistake.

He looked at the raging storm outside, then back at Peter. As much as he wanted to beat himself up though, there were more pressing matters in the moment. He was sure it wasn't the lighting anymore; Peter was definitely turning blue. Sam inched closer on reflex, nudging Peter closer to his body so he could curl up as far as he could, and finally the taller man painstakingly turned around so he could press his cold hands to Sam's chest, careful of his ribs. He was shaking so hard. Sam looked for the ratty old coat they'd been using and found it lying behind the Chitauri just out of reach of the snow.

Helmet or not, Sam was still trained by SHIELD and Gamora and it was mandatory to learn hand-to-hand combat in the case that they lost their weapons or abilities during a fight. He calculated that he might be able to take out two of them, three at the very most – but his rib was making breathing difficult and he was cold now too. His body wasn't going to move as fast and his reflexes would be slower, so he probably won't be able take them all out before being overpowered, which left him and Peter in a worse place than they were before.

So fighting was out of the question, which left him one other option.

" _Hey_ ," he said, using the Chitauri's dialect to get their attention, " _My partner needs that jacket,"_ he nodded toward it with his head, _"He's going to freeze to death if he's not warmed up_."

A rumble of amused noises came from the guards and it stirred Peter into looking up in confusion.

" _What do we care?"_ One of the guards rumbled, the noises coming from its throat almost barkish in nature, " _He'll make for a good snack later, nice and preserved. We haven't had Earthling in a while."_

Sam scowled, curling his arm around Peter a little tighter, " _Isn't he Titus's leverage against me? If he dies, there's nothing that'll get me to give up my Nova helmet and who do you think Titus will go after once he's done killing me?_ "

This time an uneasy shift passed between them. They gave each other glances, as if not sure they should believe it or not, but Sam wasn't going to give them the luxury of choosing.

"What are you saying to them?" Peter croaked, but Sam shushed him.

" _We'll take that coat now,"_ he insisted. The Chitauri guards waited a few more seconds, sharing uneasy glances again as if waiting for someone else to make the call, until one of them finally picked up the coat and handed it over. Immediately another broke off from the group and disappeared into the storm. Peter watched this curiously and looked at Sam as the coat was curled around him.

"I just asked them to get you the coat," Sam answered.

"That was a lot of talking for a coat."

Sam shrugged, or did his best to, "They just needed a little…persuading..."

Peter didn't quite believe him, but Sam assured him it's nothing to be worried about and beckoned for him to scoot closer. Peter was taller than him, and thicker in build, but Sam did his best to curl around him, sharing whatever body warmth he could offer. Any questions Peter had were quickly forgotten as he buried his face in the crook of Sam's neck and huddled against him in return.

The coat helped a little, but Sam wished they had something warmer. And as if the older gods of the universe were listening, just as the thought crossed his mind, the Chitauri guard that left came back and Sam's eyes widened in surprise as he handed over some kind of alien animal pelt. Sensing the disturbance, Peter looked up again and his eyes widened too, drinking in the strange pattern of the skinned hide as it was draped over his shoulders as well. Any reservations he had about it were thrown out the window the moment it was secured around him. His eyes widened and he sank into the warm cocoon with a deep sigh.

Maybe the Chitauri were more scared of Titus then Sam realized, which made him nervous. He appreciated the extra precautions they were going through to make sure Titus had his leverage, but that still wasn't good news for them. Still, despite that awareness, Sam chuckled as Peter melted into the pelt, rubbing his cheek against the soft inside like some kind of human cat – he must _really_ be tired. This, combined with the jacket, at least gave him a chance of surviving the night now – a small one, but it was better than nothing.

"Hey now, you still can't go to sleep," Sam warned him, poking Peter just above the eyebrow and Peter hummed.

"Then why did you give me a blanket?"

"Because you need to stay warm, dingus. Connors still needs to check your noggin'."

Peter's eyes cracked open and he skid his fingers along Sam's chin, up his jaw, and hid them in his messy black hair, rubbing his scalp, "And what about your head, Firefly? You crash-landed worse than I did."

"I had the helmet," Sam said, "It fixed me up, lickety-split. Which we can't say the same for _you_."

At the mention of the helmet, Peter's eyes skittered back to the shack opening, where Titus disappeared, and worry flitted over his face, darkening it like a shadow. "Do you think we can get it back? Can't you call it to you Mjolnir-style?"

Sam smiled sadly, heart cracking a little at the thought, "Unfortunately, it can't fly back to me Mjolnir-style, but that would be _flarking_ awesome if it could."

Peter snickered, almost child-like, "I like it when you swear in alien."

"I know, you _blurg_."

He gasped quietly, "Did you just call me a _blurg?"_

"I did, whatcha gonna do about it?"

"You little," Peter brought Sam's head down to press his smile in a quick kiss to his forehead. "There. That's what I'm gonna do about it."

Correction, Peter was really, _really_ tired. He only ever got super handsy and smoozy like this when he was on the brink of collapsing. It was worrying, but Sam grinned too, "I think I should swear at you in alien more often too."

For a second, they could pretend it was just the two of them, enjoying each other's company in a mediocre cabin in the woods, then reality came crashing back down to ruin the fantasy like the kill-joy it was. A creak of wood interrupted them and another handful of Chitauri soldiers appeared in the blast hole, grumbling something to the guards, too quietly for Sam to pick up. But he could guess what they were doing when all the guards fired up their weapons at the same time and approached them with steady steps. Sam unwound himself from Peter so he could stand on his feet, as weak and dented as that was, fists leveled in case he needed to throw an impromptu punch.

" _Titus requires your presence,_ " one of the guards said, gun emitting a high whine as if warning Sam not to make any sudden movements, " _So come quietly or else."_

"Sam," Peter said, having noticed the change in the room. He got to his feet as well, also jerky and tense as his face pinched. "What's happening."

The guard shifted his gun from Sam to Peter and Sam immediately stepped in front of him, staring down the nozzle. " _Put the gun away,"_ he snapped, " _He's not going to attack_."

" _Tell the Earthling to get on the floor with his hands on the ground,"_ the guard ordered, gesturing hard with his weapon.

Peter didn't seem to like that, "Sam," he said again, good hand rubbing his palms, just over the pressure-plate where his web shooter triggers were located.

Sam waved at him to stand down, "It's okay, Pete. Titus just wants to see me, I'll be right back."

Peter's eyebrows flew up like they were attempting take-off right off his head, "What? No. _No_ , I'm going with you."

"You can't."

"Sam, you can't go see this lunatic by _yourself_. He wants to kill you, I'm not going to just sit here and-"

"Peter," Sam grabbed his good hand, "I know you're scared-"

"I-I'm not scared."

" _I know_ you're scared, it's okay. I promise I'll come back, alright?"

Sam wasn't sure if he believed himself, but desperately needed Peter to, if not for his own sake, then for Sam's. He didn't like the idea of facing Titus by himself, weaponless and alone, but it's not like either of them had a choice in the matter. Peter could tell as much, but his eyes popped between Sam and the guards, lips pressing into a thin, unhappy line about it.

He nodded once, but it was tight, like his neck was rebelling his acceptance. Sam squeezed his hand, but just as he made to let go, Peter tightened his grip and pulled him closer as if to hug him and something thick and heavy slid into Sam's palm. Peter nodded one more time, jaw set and determined, before dropping his hand so just as Sam was yanked back by the guard.

His fingers ran over the invisible object and he had to school his expression as he realized what it was. One of Peter's webshooters, hidden in camo-mode. Maybe he wouldn't have to go into this defenseless after all. As the guard nearest to him grunted at Peter, who was still on his feet, nervously watching the proceedings, Sam slid the webshooter into place and it fastened to his wrist – a small weight, but still comforting.

The rest of it should've been smooth sailing: they take Sam out, he meets up with Titus, and Peter stays here until he (hopefully) returns. But it didn't happen like that. The moment Sam was being coerced towards the exit, one of the guards behind him must've gotten antsy with Peter staring them down and didn't hesitate to drive the butt of his weapon into Peter's gut and shove him back to the ground. But one didn't just try to _hit_ Spider-Man and Peter was already reacting by the time the guard moved, on pure reflex alone. He didn't move in time to avoid the hit, but his hand did fly up and from the webshooter he still had, he shot a glob a webbing into the guards' face. At such close proximity, the force knocked the guard off their feet,

Everything happened too quickly after that. Because their comrade was attacked, half of the guards converged on Peter, kicking him down and firing up they're weapons, and the other half converged on Sam as if making sure he wasn't going to try anything too.

Which was smart, because Sam _did_ try something the moment the first one kicked Peter's bad leg and he collided with the floor, shouting in pain. Sam yanked his arm out of their grip, rushing toward the hackled guards, shouting, "Hey! _Hey!_ Stop it, he's not going to do anything, leave him alone!"

One of the Chitauri snagged his shoulder and Sam reacted without thinking, he grabbed their wrist, leaned into their body, tilted forward, and threw them over his shoulder. Ava had ingrained that move into his head during many of their one-on-one training sessions, in the case that he was snuck up on, and he hadn't even realized he'd done it until he was staring down at the guards twitching form.

On the one hand, it was nice to see that all that training was being put to good use, but on the other hand, he was now in trouble. There were too many guards to fight off by himself, but that didn't stop him from trying – at least he could still throw a semi-punch, but it wasn't very strong thanks to that cracked rib. As expected though, his luck inevitably ran out and he hit the ground when a butt of a gun knocked him in the nose with a loud _CRUNCH_. The Chitauri must not have many rules of courtesy, because they had no problem kicking him while he was down, literally. One of them kicked him in the stomach, and then another kicked his legs, and then his gut. Sam curled in on himself, ribs screaming as his arms covered his head as they assaulted him.

Faintly, he could hear Peter calling his name, but there was so much noise around him it was hard to pick out.

Eventually, the beating stopped, and thick, clawed hands gripped his arms, shoulders and neck and hauled him to his feet. Copper flooded his mouth from the foot that clipped him in the jaw and blood from his broken nose gushed over his lips and down his chin, painting his shirt with large brown-red stains. Sam was barely conscious as they dragged him out of the shack and into the frigid cold. His vision teetered and swam, but even he could make out how thick the snow was coming down now, like someone had torn open a cloud and were dumping cotton swabs all over the earth.

The buffeting winds blew snow into his eyes and he had to squint to see. A decent distance from the shack, in a clearing, a massive spacecraft had landed, managing to steer clear of most of the forestry, which explained why he and Peter hadn't heard anything.

Sam was dragged on board and led through the long, eerily lit corridors, until a large set of doors opened, and they entered the main deck. It reminded him of SHIELD's main deck on the Tricarrier, with all the screens and blinking lights, just a lot smoother and more alien in design. Standing in the middle of the room, in front of a massive control panel, was Titus. How he managed to look taller every time Sam saw him was a secret he yearned to learn.

He was dropped at Titus's gargantuan feet, and try as he might, wasn't able to stay on his own two feet and crumpled immediately. His ribs were a flashing hot beacon in his body, and he could feel the bruises forming on his skin. He wiped at the blood still coming from his nose, careful not to touch the broken cartilage itself. Titus looked him over, his stupid tiger face twisting up in amusement.

"You couldn't just come quietly," he said, "Seems just like Jesse's spawn."

Sam didn't bother with an answer. He struggled to his feet, that way he could at least stand in front of this _das't_ furry wannabe. Titus seemed amused by his bravado, but just like Sam, he didn't bother with pleasantries and simply held the helmet out to Sam.

"Relinquish your ownership of the helmet."

The helmet stared tantalizingly at Sam, the black and gold gleaming like it was an old friend. Sam supposed, in a way, it was. His fingers reached, barely skidding along the metal to grab it when Titus pulled it back just out of reach."

"And don't even think about trying to use it," he added, "Every single one of these guards," his head gestured to the Chitauri soldiers lining the wall, "will have their guns on you, and I'll be more than happy to burn a hole through your weak little Earthling chest myself."

With that as his only warning, he thrust the helmet into Sam's arms. The metal was cool to the touch and it did wonders to soothe Sam's anxiety. When he told Peter he'd be coming back, he hadn't quite believed his own promise. He was going to try coming back, but the probability of him succeeding…

What could he do, after all? What was he _supposed_ to do? None of the Guardians told him what the procedure was in a situation like this. The biggest plan he ever had was to ensure that no one ever touched the helmet and made sure it stayed in his hands and _only_ his hands. Besides, whether he gave Titus ownership or not, he was going to die. There was no way he was walking out of this alive once it's all over.

His discrepancy must've shown because Titus growled, cat-nose bristling and wrinkling the fur around his eyes, "If you don't, _little sprout,"_ he said the nickname like an insult, "then that Earthling of yours will make a lovely plaything for my soldiers. It's been a while since they've hunted something with its finesse, and it'd make for a good training exercise against this planet's breed of human," he leaned down, the glow of his cyber eye level with Sam, "And I promise his death will be slow and painful. He will beg for me to put him down, but I won't. I'll let them tear him apart piece by piece, and when he is on the brink of death, I'll allow him to heal just so we can do it all over again. And when I'm done with _him_ , I'll go back to that little town and do the same to that family Jesse worked so hard to protect."

Sam's hands clutched the helmet so tightly he nearly cut his fingers on the edges. Each word was like a torch driving farther into his heart, boiling his blood and making his face flush with anger.

"If you touch them-"

Titus laughed, loud and mocking, "You'll do what?"

That was a very good question. What was Sam going to do? He looked like a mess right now. One eye nearly swollen shut, blood falling down his nose, half bent over because his torso was on fire and he couldn't stand up straight; Titus could squash him without thinking about it, long before Sam could attempt to put the helmet back on.

But he couldn't let Titus just _have_ the helmet either, the amount of destruction he could cause with this much power. Planets blown to bits, entire fleets outrun, gathered intelligence from the helmets World-Mind. Earth would probably be his first target, undoubtedly, and it was Sam's duty as Nova to protect the galaxy and the helmet itself. He couldn't give it to Titus – he'd die before he let that happen.

But Peter…

His family…

No. They would want the same thing. If it was between them and the planet, they would sacrifice themselves. Even if Titus was threatening to hunt Peter down and torture him, Peter would take his fate in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Earth, and all their loved ones, safe.

But here's another thing: Sam didn't want to die. And quite frankly, he didn't want Peter or his family to die either. He wasn't going to be killed without seeing his sister and his mom again, and he wanted to talk to Aunt May one last time; he wanted to go on that ski trip with Peter. As Rocket would say, " _Screw this sacrificing-yourself-for-the-universe shit_ " he'll find another way out.

A cursory glance around the room didn't offer much in the way of a plan. There were too many guards lining the room and even if they weren't there, Sam was in no condition to take on Titus himself. Hell, even in his best condition he probably couldn't take the guy without the aid of the helmet. His options were scarily limited and not even the weight of the webshooter was comforting anymore, Peter had only given him a few lessons on how to use it, just the basics in the case that Sam needed them.

Regardless of his limited skills, the best tactic he had was to thin the herd.

"If I'm going to die, can I at least die in peace?" Sam snapped, nodding towards the guards with his head. "I don't want my death to be entertainment for your lap dogs."

Titus seemed to consider that, but when he narrowed his expression, Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What do you expect me to do? You're thousands of feet taller than me and I'm not exactly in any shape to fight. Worried I'll beat you to death with my sneakers?"

His mocking made Titus scowl, and Sam almost thought he was going to hit him, but instead Titus growled, "Why would I give you the honor of a last wish at all?"

"Because you were once a Nova," Sam supplied, "Because you used to be a part of the Corps? Because you and my dad used to be friends? Take your pick, Tony – if you have any good memories at all from your Nova days, at least give me this."

Maybe there was a smidgeon of decency hiding underneath all that fur. Titus stared at him for a little longer, yellow eyes boring into Sam, before barking an order at the Chitauri, and without hesitation they left the room. Sam was surprised his request had been accepted at all.

"There," Titus said, gesturing to the now empty room with one hand, "die your honorable death, Alexander, but first, the helmet."

Sam stared down at the glossy surface, rubbing his thumbs into the pristine, alien metal. His heart thudded where he could make out his reflection and reflexively, he gripped the helmet tighter. This belonged to his dad, the only thing he ever got from Jesse Alexander, and now it belonged to him – giving it to someone like Titus was the highest disrespect Sam could do to his family and the legacy of every fallen Nova long before his time. It made his stomach curl.

"Do you promise you'll let my friend go if I do this?" Sam asked.

Titus's eyes gleamed, "I'll think about it."

"No, you have to promise you'll let him go."

A chuckle punched itself from Titus's chest at his daring. but he said, "Fine, we'll let the Earthling go. I'll even leave this miserable planet once it's mine. Is that good enough for you?"

Sam nodded and blew out of breath, hands shaking. "How do I give up the helmet?"

Titus grinned, eyes sharp and nose wrinkling, tasting victory, "Repeat these words, 'I, Sam Alexander, holder of the Nova helmet, do give up all ties to the power and knowledge it possesses. I relinquish my blood bond and give it back to the Xandarian Worldmind from which it came."

Sam sucked in a deep breath, heart thumping so hard he could feel its push against his chest, "I, Sam Alexander, holder of the Nova helmet, do give up all ties to the power and knowledge it possesses. I…" he wavered, voice trembling, "I relinquish my blood bond and give it back to the Xandarian Worldmind from which it came."

He expected to feel something. Anything. A power down that made him weaker. A snap like something had been severed, or a coldness when the helmet separated its ties from him. But Sam didn't feel a thing and for some reason that made it hurt worse.

But he wasn't done yet. Just as the words left his mouth, he aimed his wrist, double tapped his palm, just like Peter taught him, and a glob of webbing covered half of Titus's face. He'd been aiming for his eyes, but only managed to cover one, and Titus roared, lunging at him, not bothering to even rip the webbing off. Sam stumbled back, curling around the helmet and whispering into its metal, but Titus had him by the neck in seconds and wrenched it from his arms. With another roar, he threw Sam across the ship and he hit the far wall hard.

He was on the cusp of blacking out, pain eating up and down his body like large, bloody parasites. He couldn't breathe. Titus loomed over him, lips pulled back to show his pointed fang, cat eyes blazeing in anger, but also victory, as he held Sam's helmet triumphantly in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Oh no, Sam's in danger! :D


	4. I Need A Hero

One time, in Carefree, Arizona, Sam watched a movie with his little sister Kaelynn – a standard thing they did. He couldn't remember what it was called, but he did remember a scene where a priest thrust a cross over his head, reaching as far up as he could go, as if warding off oncoming demons and devils as white light glowed around him. Sam couldn't help but think of that scene now as Titus lifted the helmet up in place of a cross, illuminated from behind by the control panels and dashboards, looking somehow bigger than Sam's ever seen him before. In that same sense, Sam supposed he would be the demon getting cast away, but he couldn't help but feel like Titus was the devil preparing to strike him down.

When Titus snarled, "I'll enjoy vaporizing you," the sound is violent and rough, and only added to Sam's reasoning. "And then, I'll vaporize that little Earthling of yours, and then this entire disgusting planet."

Not the desired outcome Sam was hoping for.

 _I should do something_ , he screamed at himself. _I've got to move. He's going to kill me_.

But his legs weren't responding anymore, nothing in his body felt inclined to _get his ass up and move_. His heart stopped in his chest as Titus loomed over him, like a mountain threatening to topple him in a landslide, nose wrinkled and lips pulled back to bare his fangs, the whites of his eyes so wild and frenzied it reminded Sam of those hungry wild cats from the Discovery Channel. His mind was a screaming, flailing turmoil of panic, begging his body to do something, to leave, to tackle him, but fear kept him rooted in the spot. All he could do was watch as Titus lowered the helmet over his head until the glinting red star was glaring down at him, looking so much more malicious than Sam's ever seen it.

As if finally realizing what was about to happen, blood flowed back throughout his body, making his heart pound so loudly it was deafening in his ears.

 _Please_ , he begged to all the heavens and beyond, _by all the gods, please let this not be a mistake_.

He didn't know what else to do, he hadn't had a choice. It was the only option that had the highest possibility of Peter and his mother and sister coming out of this alive. But seeing that helmet facing him, he wondered if he should've just refused and let Titus kill him.

What happened next was so fast, Sam wouldn't have even seen it if he weren't staring at Titus with the weight of the universe crushing his shoulders. For one full second all he felt was a soul-scraping, heart-stopping, nerve-wracking fear that he doomed the entire planet as the helmet rested on Titus's head. His family was going to die, Peter was going to die, the entire planet was going to die – and it was going to be all his fault.

And then Titus erupted into a pillar of light.

He didn't even have the time to scream. Just seconds after the helmet was in place, and maybe not even that, he was engulfed in a crackling, sizzling column of pure light that ate him up, piece by piece in a blink of an eye, and when Sam finally looked up from shielding his eyes, he heard a _clang_ and a soft metallic rolling as the helmet spun on its side and slowly came to a stop at his feet.

Titus was gone.

No, not just gone.

 _Vaporized_.

A tightness clamped around Sam's chest and he struggled to breathe. That's what happened when you put on a Nova helmet that didn't belong to you. It was its only safety measure and an extremely dangerous one at that.

He could recall one time, when Peter first joined the team, Sam let him inspect the helmet to satisfy his curiosity (with his direct supervision, of course). At the time, he was still fuming over the realization that he wasn't going to be team leader, as hoped, and Peter seemed fascinated by the idea of alien tech and Sam was looking for something to one-up him in. So he allowed Peter to roll the helmet in his hands, run those crafty little fingers over its grooves and trace the edges of the star while asking Sam if he ever thought about painting it to look like Patrick from SpongeBob. Everything was fine up until Peter tried to put the helmet on.

Sam freaked.

He snatched the helmet out of Peter's arms and all but pushed the other boy away, yelling at him for being an idiot and trying to get himself killed. He didn't mean to lash out, panic had gripped him and he'd moved without thinking. He knew the fatal repercussions of putting it on, not Peter, and something innate had overcome him. And it spooked Peter. Maybe he heard the fear in Sam's voice or noticed how panicked his posture was, but he skittered off with nary a word or quip and Sam didn't see him for hours afterward.

It took Peter weeks to ask about it and when Sam told him, he'd gone pale and wide-eyed, realizing he almost got himself vaporized. Or, at least that's what Sam assumed, until Peter admitted that he was never going to put the helmet on in the first place. His spider-sense had gone off so quickly, and so violently, that his entire body locked up long enough for Sam to yank it out of his hands. He also admitted that it's been a while since something like that rang his spider-sense so badly, and to such an extent, and combined with Sam's red-eyed freak-out it got him high-tailing it out of there as fast as possible.

Sam stared down at the helmet now, at its innocent red star and hollowed eyes. There was a faint scent in the air, like burnt fur, but no other traces that Titus had been there seconds before. Sam didn't want to move anymore. Didn't want to breathe too deeply in fear that it would break the fragile silence that fell over the room. His eyes flitted to the large doors, waiting for the guards to come rushing in and pumping his body full of laser holes, but seconds ticked by and there were no indications that they heard anything at all.

As much as he wanted to fall over and sleep for a million years, or better yet, die and go into the great nothingness, he couldn't. This wasn't over. He was still trapped in the middle of a forest, stuck inside a massive blizzard, and had someone else relying on him to walk out of here alive.

Moving makes Sam feel like he's the one getting vaporized, and he has to bite his tongue so he doesn't make a sound, because screaming in agony was a great way to grab the attention of all the Chitauri on the ship, as he picked up the helmet and got to shaky feet. Then again, maybe if he screamed, they'd think Titus was torturing him or something.

He almost put the helmet back on through sheer muscle memory, but stopped himself short, heart thudding hard. He couldn't put it on anymore – not if he wanted a one-way ticket to whatever the _flark_ happened to Titus. But he did need to get out of here fast.

The room is big and filled with tech and control boards, all etched with strange alien glyphs glowing an unnatural green. Why was it always green? Why couldn't it be orange? Or hot pink? Give it a little variety.

Either way, color scheme aside, the room was disgustingly bare of anything useful. That is until he hobbled along the perimeter and found one of the small bombs the Chitauri carried on their belts. It was the equivalent of a human flash bomb – strong enough to blind any opponent and knock them off their feet.

Perfect.

He limped to the door, the helmet tucked under one arm and the other holding the flash bomb so tightly his knuckles were white. His legs were shaking so bad he had to lean against the wall for support, and he hoped he could make it outside without tripping. The Chitauri didn't seem like the kind to give piggy-back rides and Sam knew that if he fell once, there was a 99.9% chance he wasn't getting back up from exhaustion alone.

Taking a breath that made his ribs scream bloody murder, he closed his eyes, took a moment in preparation, and then pushed the button. The doors slid open and he lobbed the bomb into the corridor beyond, and then pressed himself back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. The BOOM vibrates through the walls and he still sees a flash of white over his eyelids, but when he opens them he can still see, unlike the group of guards outside who are rubbing their faces and screeching in anger.

He limped past them, narrowly avoiding getting nailed by flailing arms and weapons, and hobbled down the corridor like a very lost, very beat-up old man who lost his walking cane. On the bright side, no one knew Titus was dead and that was probably for the best, there's less panic that way, and less of a chance that they'll go on lock-down and kill him and Peter on sight.

Thankfully, this ship isn't as big as the mother-ship Titus brought last time, but its design is like any other spacecraft that Sam has destroyed with the Guardians, so the lay-out is familiar. There are a few times he almost gets lost, and more still where he's almost spotted and is forced to duck behind a corner or wedge himself into a shadow and pray that they move on quick and don't look too closely. They never do,thank _flark._

But if he doesn't hurry up someone's gonna realize that Big Boss Kitty is no longer available and start hunting for him, and if they can't find him, they're going to converge on Peter, who is in no condition to protect himself. The odds were stacking higher and higher out of his favor, but on some stroke of luck, he managed to make it out of the ship undetected and sent a mental thanks to Gamora for all those hours of stealth training she hammered into his head.

The blizzard hadn't lightened in his absence and the only way Sam can see through the snow at all, and pinpoint the aliens milling around, is because of the bright lights coming from the Chitauri's weapons. It reminds Sam of the video games he's played, with the icon over the other players that let him know where they are on the map.

Just stepping outside sends cold shooting into his skin, like ice shoving into his pores. Any patch left open and vulnerable goes raw within minutes, and as he sloshed through the snow, he could feel it sliding into his shoes and making his skin tingle and sting. By the time the shack came into view, his teeth were chattering and he's shaking so hard it's a wonder he hasn't dropped the helmet yet.

He hid himself behind one of the big trees and squinted through the snow and shadows. The Chitauri had thinned in his absence and he counted only 3 still inside the shack. He couldn't see Peter yet, but assuming they were in there at all, they probably hadn't moved him.

Now Sam just needed to figure out a way to get them out of there.

Maybe luck was still on his side, or he was just cashing in all his karma chips and the universe was giving him a break, because their comms burst to life in a flurry of crackling static and alien dialect, talking about Titus and the missing Nova, and the helmet, and for all Chitauri to be on alert. Two of the guards were ordered to return to the ship and help search for Sam, while the last one was ordered to keep an eye on the _'Earthling_.' Sam wished all three of them would leave, but he'd take what he could get.

Grabbing as big a branch he could find, and a few rocks he had to dig through the snow to get, he waited until the other two slipped away before limping toward the shack. He didn't dare look inside in fear of being spotted, but pressed himself to the undamaged side of the wall. Unfortunately, he didn't have any more flash bombs to help him this time.

The wind snagged his breath almost as quickly as he took them in, and the ones he could get were weak and flimsy at best. Thanks to his broken rib, and bruised everything, breathing was a struggle, and he had to brace himself for his next move.

This was going to hurt.

He threw the rocks into the wall, hoping the thud they made was loud enough to lure the remaining guard out. He wasn't sure it worked until the Chitauri poked its head out to take a look and Sam swung the branch with as much strength as his broken body could muster.

It wasn't enough to knock it out, but it dropped its weapon in favor of cradling its face. Sam picked up the clunky gun and had the nuzzle pressed to its chest by the time it was looking up again. He pulled the trigger.

He knew Peter didn't like killing, and Sam tried to avoid it if he could, even though this wouldn't be the first time he's had to kill a Chitauri - as he's blown-up dozens of their ships - and it probably wouldn't be the last. But it couldn't be helped – he had no chance of fighting hand-to-hand in his state and he didn't have the strength to knock him out with a make-shift weapon. He dropped the branch carelessly, stepped over the body, and hobbled into the blessedly dry shack.

"Peter?"

Peter was in the same corner he was in when Sam left, but in this case, he wasn't moving. They'd taken the blanket from him, to be cruel or by orders, Sam would never know, but Peter was curled tightly on himself which made Sam's stomach drop. He once saw a drowned spider in a bucket back in Carefree, it had all its legs curled towards its body like it shriveled up in the water, wound so tightly in a ball that it was disturbing and strange to look at. Peter's arms and legs were curled in like that, so still and unmoving, it was like he'd been morphed into stone. From where Sam was, it didn't look like he was breathing.

" _Peter_!"

He hobbled quicker, though that didn't mean much, and came to a painful stop on his knees next to the other man. Sam was cold as it was, but Peter's skin felt like ice, even to _his_ numb fingers. He grabbed one of Peter's wrists that he'd wedged against his chest and desperately searched for a pulse, praying to whatever gods existed that he wasn't too late. The relief he felt when he found it was palpable, however faint it was, and nearly made him weep. He had been wrong about Peter's chest too, he was still breathing, it was just so soft and weak that Sam hadn't noticed.

But his relief was small next to his distress. Peter's body was shutting down fast and they didn't have much time left.

Sam curled an arm under Peter to ease him up, but it took a couple tries of biting through pain before he managed it.

"Come on Webhead," he grunted, settling Peter into his lap. The way his voice cracked made his throat feel tight, "Come on, don't die on me asshole. We gotta get home. We –" his chest ached and his voice became a strained plea, "Please," he untucked the helmet under his arm and carefully lifted it over Peter's head. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. I – I tried but I…you can't die yet, Aunt May will kill you if you do, and-" his voice broke off, "And I'll be mad too, and I know you don't like it when I cry, so…so just…" he put the helmet over Peter's hand, "come back."

It was strange seeing Peter wear the Nova helmet, like seeing a dog with a cat tail, but if Sam were going to transfer ownership of the helmet to _anyone_ , it would be in good hands with Peter Parker. He had barely been able to make the transfer in time back in the ship. He'd webbed Titus in the face and when he curled over the helmet, he barely managed to whisper, "To Peter Parker. I relinquish ownership to Peter Benjamin Parker," before the helmet was yanked away.

Sam wasn't sure if it would work when he'd done it. Wasn't sure if it would still go to Titus, or if the transfer would be complete with Peter, or if something entirely different happened, but it was his last option. Peter was dying anyway; Sam couldn't keep him warm in this weather and his temperature was dropping so fast there was no hope of bringing it back up without a fire – and there was nothing here but the shack they were using for shelter that they could burn. This was their only shot. He prayed that it would be enough.

One second ticked by. Then 2, then 5, then 30. 60 seconds came and went and Peter wasn't vaporized. He was still here, whole and intact, and freezing. The helmet slid over him and as if sensing its new owner, it powered on and encased Peter in the soft blue of the Nova Force. He looked almost peaceful in its light and wasn't so curled up anymore, which was a relief.

"Good. Just…just heal him," Sam whispered, holding Peter close to his chest despite how much it hurt. He was so _das'ted_ tired. He lay his head on the smooth metal of the helmet, careful of the pointed ends of the star, and finally allowed himself to rest. He wanted to sleep; he was desperate for it. His body was exhausted and pushed to the brink and he couldn't keep going. If he didn't sit down and rest, it was going to make that decision for him. At least Peter would be okay. The helmet has healed Sam from so many injuries, he was positive it would take care of this too. It can bring Peter back from the brink of death as it's done to him so many times.

But apparently, Sam's luck was destined to run out and all those karma chips he cashed in weren't enough. Just as his eyes were drooping, and he thought he was in the clear, noises gathered outside and judging by the fact that he could hear them and pin-point pieces of alien dialect, they were close. It was a Chitauri party converging on them, and it would be a matter of minutes before they arrived, and Peter still needed to heal, which meant no rest for Sam Alexander.

Sam wanted to sob as he dislodged himself from Peter and used the wall as a grappling hook to pull himself up. His legs wobbled of their own accord and his body spasmed, broken nose smarting when he sniffed and he resisted the urge to rub it. He nearly keeled over with the first step, his body becoming one giant strain that threatened to snap if he didn't stop _right now_. He was only human, after all. No helmet, no fancy space powers – just him with a feeble knowledge of hand-to-hand combat and not enough strength to attempt it.

But he had to keep going. He didn't have a choice; he still had a job to do.

Each step felt like his last and his vision swam with a mixture of pain and nausea that made his gut lurch, if he had anything in his stomach, he might've thrown it up. He picked up the branch from earlier and used it as a walking stick to peep out of the shack, where outside, lying in wait, were indiscernible blobs with flashing weapons. The only thing stopping the Chitauri from blasting him and Peter to kingdom come was probably because they still didn't know where Titus was.

 _And they never will,_ Sam thought.

How was he going to distract them this time? He doubted a couple of snowballs would do it and his branch was close to snapping with just his weight on it; he didn't have any more flash grenades and he was in no condition to lead them on a chase through the woods. Hell, he didn't know where he was and would get himself lost and frozen to death if he tried.

But once again, Sam didn't get to make that decision. All he heard over the howling wind was a building whine of dozens of weapons and he barely made it to the floor before a barrage of lasers burned through the shack, leaving blackened, smoldering holes in the walls and charring wood. Vaguely, Sam wished the shack would catch fire already so he could feel warm again.

When it finally stopped, he lifted his head to listen for more. Those were warning shots, he knew the difference between someone trying to scare him and someone trying to _kill_ him.

A Chitauri from outside barked for him to surrender, and Sam wanted this to be the moment where he got back to his feet, ignoring his injuries against all odds and taking them all out in a burst of heroism and adrenaline. He wanted to be the hero his sister saw him as, a hero Peter could be proud of, and a hero Sam wanted to be. But he _couldn't_. He was done. Hitting the floor was the final straw and he couldn't get up again. It was just his soft human body and it was broken and hurt.

The Chitauri were coming through the snow, the softest crunch or rustle of foliage making it to Sam's ears, but most of it was muffled from the storm.

His eyes sought out Peter, but he couldn't see him from the angle he'd fallen.

 _If I die, please just let him live,_ Sam begged. _Please, let at least one of us go home_.

He wondered if the Watcher was watching him. He was a giant bald space alien that lived on the moon, silently watching Earth in all its drama, grandeur, and turmoil. The first time Sam used the helmet, he crash-landed on the moon, coming to a stop at the giant alien's feet. The Watcher didn't talk, but his large round eyes held so much intelligence they reflected the galaxy and all its splendor. Sam liked to think they were sort-of friends, even though he was the only one that talked in their relationship, but he appreciated the guy's company. He was a good listener.

The floorboards creaked, the Chitauri were in the shack now. They're guns fired up again, no doubt leveling at Sam. Were they going to kill him after all? Did they even care that Titus was gone? He couldn't blame them if they didn't, Titus was kind of a douche.

If the Watcher was watching, Sam hoped he looked away. Just this once.

He closed his eyes and waited for the blast.

Only, there wasn't any. Instead of a pitched whine followed with searing pain, he heard a loud snarl, "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" and a blast of heat swelled over his shoulder in the opposite direction of the aliens.

When he opened his eyes, a blue glow had ignited the room, warm in all its familiarity. He forced his head to look and his eyes widened at what he saw. Peter was on his feet, standing over Sam with his arms out, the eyes of the Nova helmet flashing brightly. A Nova uniform materialized over his Spidey costume, built to fit his stature and physique, as blue and white energy pulsed around him in hot fury. From the exposed lower half of Peter's face, his lips and teeth were bared in anger.

With the Chitauri blasted back outside, Peter carefully knelt next to Sam, his eyes going back and forth to make sure they weren't coming back, as those clenched fists softened like butter and turned Sam over gently.

"Sam?" he said, and he's using the team-dubbed " _mother-hen voice_ " that he only ever used when a teammate was hurt and he's squawking and fawning over them until he's sure they'll recover. Sam grunted in acknowledgment because he can't do much else and then hissed as Peter helped him settle on his back.

"Hey," Peter murmured, words so soft it's like a cushion in his ears. "Hey there, lightbulb, how you doing?" His hands glided over Sam's body automatically, getting an assessment of his injuries by softly dancing over his ribs and Sam grunted and seized up. "Easy," Peter murmured again, "It's okay, I got ya."

Sam cracked a painful smile, "I thi – think you're the lightbulb now."

Peter looked at him perplexed, as if he didn't know what Sam was talking about, until he glanced down at his arms and legs and realized what he was wearing. Slowly, he took a deep, controlled breath like he wasn't sure how to feel, "I don't know what you did, Sam, but this is _insane_. I thought I couldn't wearthe helmet without getting space fried."

"Trans-" Sam grunted in pain, "Transferred to you – so Titus couldn't –" a hiss, "-was the only way."

Peter's confusion softened around the edges, though it didn't disappear. He swiped a few strands of Sam's grimy hair out of his face, lips tugging into an almost-there smile, "You're still my lightbulb, space suit or not."

When Sam struggled to keep his head up, Peter got up to grab the discarded jacket from earlier and carefully tucked it under Sam's head.

He didn't like seeing Sam like this. So weak and tired – like if he blinked Sam would just be…gone.

Outside, the Chitauri were regrouping and Peter scowled, casting a glare to the open wall.

"You stay here," he said firmly, cupping Sam's face to keep his eyes on him. "I'm going to take care of those clowns outside and then we're going to figure out…" he gestured to the suit and Sam, "all of this. Stay here and you better still be awake when I get back, got it? As team leader, that's an order."

"S-suck it," Sam wheezed, and Peter smiled, though it was wobbly. If Sam was disregarding Peter's very prestigious team orders, then it meant he wasn't gone just yet. That was a good sign.

"I'll be right back."

The shift from Sam to the Chitauri was a dangerous one. One minute Peter was all soft lines and concerned frowns, and the next he was standing on both feet, shoulders hard and tense, fist clenched and lips in an angry snarl. He zeroed in on the aliens outside and the Nova Force pulsed like a heartbeat, going from a soft blue to a fierce white. As he stepped outside, illuminating the falling snow and charred wood, he couldn't even feel the wind or snow. It was like he was protected in his own little space bubble.

The HUD of the helmet scanned the area and picked out the Chitauri hiding among the trees with ease, having picked themselves up from his initial attack and were preparing to come in again.

Not on his watch.

Or at least, he was trying not to have it on his watch. Peter lifted his hands and tried to mimic what Sam did when he shot an energy blast, though he wasn't sure if it was more complex than lifting his hands and hoping for something to happen. Both hands out, deep breathes, channel the energy, and _boy_ could he feel the energy. The power of the helmet thrummed inside his body like a living thing, coursing through his veins and charging every nerve and atom, filling every ounce of his body with this burning, sizzling light that threatened to explode if he wasn't careful. This wasn't just some man-made energy source, or even the intensity of the sun, – this was the power of an exploding star at his fingertips, contained inside his _body_ , searing through every fiber of his being.

Is this what Sam felt like all the time? This power lighting him from the inside out? It was exhilarating. Amazing. Utterly terrifying.

It's easier than Peter expected to shoot a beam, but what he doesn't expect is the amount of power that surges from his hands, far bigger than he intended, and not only does he miss his target entirely, but it sailed through the woods, easily blasting through full-grown trees, and tore through the hull of the ship parked a distance away.

Peter stared at the damage in wide-eyed awe.

_The fuck!?_

How the hell did Sam control this?

He tried again, focusing on drawing the energy back, but this time it was too little energy and only seared the trees above the Chitauri's head. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable shooting a big laser beam with the power to _melt_ people, especially if he didn't know how to control it. He felt like he'd gotten bitten all over again in all his ignorance, but on a much larger, much grander scale.

Did Sam really control _all_ this power? Peter didn't know how; it was too much to use at once. He felt like he had a bomb ticking in his chest, and the possibility of an explosion counted on whether or not he could pick the wires apart while blind-folded.

Now, Peter didn't have a hard time believing that Sam accidentally destroyed a skatepark in his hometown.

He blasted a few more beams at the Chitauri, struggling to keep them from destroying the entire forest, while also trying to intimidate the Chitauri into ducking for cover to reevaluate their situation. They probably didn't know what was worse, a Nova that knew what they were doing, or one that didn't.

Peter glanced at the spaceship in the distance and debated flying over there to incapacitate it, but to do that he would have to leave Sam here, where the Chitauri could get him, which was a _no go._ Besides, if he destroyed that ship, it left them stranded here with them, which meant Peter could be up all night fending them off and keeping them away from Sam.

But what else could he do? He didn't understand the aliens or their dialect or their weird symbols – he didn't know what they wanted or even what their freakish alien weapons did. He was a fish out of water.

This wasn't his world.

He knew nothing about aliens and spaceships, and cosmic powers outside what he learned from high school astronomy and what little SHIELD had – this was Sam's world. He needed Sam, and honestly, Sam needed the helmet far more than Peter did.

He shot a final blast at the Chitauri, making sure it's strong enough to give them a spook, before hightailing it back to the shack.

For a moment Sam didn't look like he was breathing and Peter's heart dropped, he skittered to his knees next to him, panic invading his body like a frightened bird trapped in a cage. But up close, he saw the faint rise and fall of Sam's chest and breathed in relief.

"Hey," Peter whispered, softly tapping Sam's cheek, "Hey, sunshine, I need you to wake up. You need to tell me how to give the helmet back."

Sam blinked slowly, like he couldn't quite make out what Peter was saying, "Wh-what?"

"How do I give the helmet back? Do I just give it up? Do I need to put it on your head? Is there some magical incantation I need to chant? You gotta give me something."

"I – I'm not sure the helmet can come back to me," Sam's voice cracked. He still looked confused about why Peter would want to give it up at all. "I gave it away. Don't…don't you want it?"

Peter smiled, running gentle fingers through Sam's hair, "It's not mine it have, Firefly. It's yours. Besides, if you can give up ownership, that's gotta mean you can take it back. I want to watch you kick alien ass again."

Sam smiled back, but it was faint. Not like he wasn't happy, just that he was too tired to put worth the energy, "We can try," he said, eyebrows knitting together, "But I don't know if it will work. I might get space-fried."

That had Peter hesitating, "That's not ideal," he admitted, frowning. He really didn't want Sam to get cooked, it was very, very, very far down on how he wanted this to go. Outside, the Chitauri were gathering again and Peter wondered if he could fight them off without Sam getting in the crossfire, but it was unlikely given how much he didn't understand this power, or how to use it.

Sam examined Peter's face, at the worry lines etched around his eyes and mouth and he smiled and would've shaken his head if he could.

"Repeat after me," he said, snapping Peter's attention back to him, and recited the oath Titus gave him. When he finished, Peter still looked unsure.

"Sam-" he started.

"It's worth the risk," Sam interrupted.

"No, it's not."

'It is to _me._ That helmet belonged to my dad, Pete. I -…I wanted you to have it if it meant keeping it away from Titus, but I don't…I never wanted to…" he bit his lip, eyes burning.

Peter stared at him for a long second, as if having a long internal mental debate, before depowering and taking the helmet off. He still looked worried, glancing at the helmet as if considering putting it back on and taking care of the Chitauri himself, but he took a deep breath and carefully recited the incantation Sam gave him.

"-I transfer ownership to Sam Alexander," he finished, and giving Sam a final uneasy glance, he fit it over his head. Their hearts beat in tangent as seconds ticked by, their breath held in their lungs, and their bodies frozen in anticipation. When Sam didn't immediately explode, they both let out a relieved sigh, and Peter grinned so widely, it hurt his cheeks. He pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead as the Nova Force illuminated around him.

They weren't out of the woods yet, but Peter was feeling a lot peppier now as he stood up, back in his original red and blue costume, however torn and mangled it was. It felt good to be back in his own skin.

"Alright, get your beauty rest. I'll distract our buddies out there, come join us when you're ready."

"Be careful," Sam said, sliding the web-shooter Peter gave him off his wrist and handing it over with a crooked smile. He looked absolutely thrilled that the helmet was back in his possession, putting energy back in his eyes, and it made Peter's heart do a happy dance.

"Aren't I always?"

He already missed the warmth the Nova force provided, but it felt good to be back in costume. The amount of power that flowed through his body had been exhilarating, but it wasn't his to have. It was all Sam's, and Peter felt like a thief for using it. But he was back with his own powers now, sliding into it like a worn glove molded to him specifically, and he descended on the Chitauri with much more confidence, armed with nothing but his trusty webs-shooters and acrobatics. The snow was like static to his spider-sense and made it fuzzy and not as reliable, but he made up for that by constantly moving and not giving the Chitauri a target to lock onto.

Despite using the helmet, he wasn't fully healed up yet, but most of his big injuries were gone and he wasn't in danger of slipping off into a cold-gripped death, despite the remaining aches and twangs. It was leagues better than how he was feeling before space healing magic, but he had to be careful to keep moving, because the moment he slowed down the cold would start kicking in, and that was something Peter didn't want nor need.

He didn't know what kind of freakish weather they had in space, but he's amused to find that the Chitauri aren't used to Earth's brand of snow. They can still fight in it, unfortunately, but they heavily underestimated just how much it obscured their vision and Peter is more than happy to exploit that for his own gain.

"Come on you E.T rejects, you're a lot less cocky now that I can actually fight back."

They garble and yell at him in an alien language that sounds like a lot of clicking and hissing, but he's under the impression that they don't like him very much. The feeling is mutual. Peter scaled a tree to get some ground, but it's slippery and he's sure he'd have all kinds of splinters if the bark weren't so wet. He does shake a large blanket of snow onto a group of Chitauri from the treetops and it's very amusing to watch.

But like it always did, his luck ran out. Parker Luck was just inevitable.

With a pathetic click and wheeze, his web-shooters were empty. One of the aliens blasted the tree he was perched on, and thanks to lazy spider-sense he didn't jump off in time to get clear of the blast. He hit the ground in an explosion of snow, coming to a stop near the shack. He groaned, sitting up, but the whine of dozens of weapons aiming for him had him freezing.

"Hold on guys, you don't want to do that." Peter said, holding out a hand.

One of them made a sound that made no sense, but he imagined it was the ever cliché " _And why is that?"_

Peter didn't have an answer until a glow crept up behind him, turning the snow into dazzling blue-white tufts that encompass the area around them. The Chitauri backed up with nervous warbling, staring at whatever was behind him, and Peter smirked, "Why? Because my boyfriend will kick your ass."

He looked up at Sam who was hovering in the doorway, the energy around him pulsing white and powerful as he punched his fist into his palm.

"These guys bothering you, honey?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday and I have the day off from work, so I thought I would update! I massively enjoyed letting Peter use the Nova helmet, but that's another thing I tweaked with Nova helmet lore because you can't actually transfer it to and fro. But that's what is fun about fanfiction, you can make shit up.
> 
> Only 1 chapter left! Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Every chapter is already written and basically edited. The rest of the fic will be coming out periodically over the next few days. Hope you enjoyed!


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